


Baby!Clex Story -- Chapter 2, "Why Aren't You Wearing Your Wig, Lex?"

by ssa_archivist



Category: Smallville
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-05-04
Updated: 2002-05-04
Packaged: 2017-11-01 10:04:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/355359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssa_archivist/pseuds/ssa_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We see some of Lex's foster family and Lex visits the Kents again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby!Clex Story -- Chapter 2, "Why Aren't You Wearing Your Wig, Lex?"

## Baby!Clex Story -- Chapter 2, "Why Aren't You Wearing Your Wig, Lex?"

by PepperjackCandy

<http://www.geocities.com/pepperjackcandy>

* * *

Title: Baby!Clex Story -- Chapter 2 "Why Aren't You Wearing Your Wig, Lex?" Author: PepperjackCandy  
Series: Comes after "He Followed Me Home . . ." Archive : Smallville Slash Archive, LexSlash, my writing at fanfiction.net Rating: PG (Probably "G," but what the heck) Pairing: Clark/Lex  
Category: Pre-slash friendship fic, for now. Archived under "AU," since "friendship" isn't an option Spoilers for: Nothing. 

Disclaimer: I own nothing Smallville-related, or related in any other way to Clark Kent, Superman or any of the various creations of the wonderful folks at DC Comics. 

Feedback: Always welcome, either by e-mail or using the review system at fanfiction.net. 

A/N: Mrs. Loeb is actually a grown up Olga Pataki from "Hey, Arnold!" <http://netvista.net/~del_grande/Olga1.jpg> Yeah, she's a cartoon character. What of it? Everyone else here are comic book characters. ;-) 

* * *

"Lex! Mom sent me up here to get you up." Joan, the eldest of the Johanssens' three daughters, said as she took the pillow from off Lex's head. 

"Go away." He moaned, trying to grab the pillow from her. 

She dangled it out of his grasp. "Uh-uh. You've got to get downstairs for breakfast pronto." 

{Pronto?} Lex wondered. {Apparently, people really talk like that around here.} 

"All right." He moaned as he rose to a sitting position. "I'm up." 

Joan flounced out the bedroom door, leaving him alone in the bedroom that he shared with three other foster sons. Lex sat on the edge of his bed for a moment, just remembering the previous day, the strange, comfortable bond he'd found with the silent orphan child. {Did any of that really happen? Or was it just a very . . . odd . . . dream?} 

As more memories surfaced, Martha Kent's expression when Clark brought him home, eating dinner in the Kent household, returning home in Jonathan Kent's truck to find that Carl had found his abandoned wig, full of leaves from where it had landed on the ground, and brought it home, Lex decided that it must have been real. 

Yawning, he rubbed his face and headed off to the bathroom. 

Minutes later, cleaned up and dressed, Lex presented himself for breakfast. The other three foster boys, Carl, Doug and Tim were already seated at the boys' table, presided over by Mr. Johanssen. 

Lex joined them as Mrs. Johanssen bustled past, handing his wig to him. "Don't forget that, Lex." 

Lex's lip curled up reflexively as he regarded the thing. "I'll put it on later." He said. 

"Just don't forget. That's a very expensive wig, young man." 

Lex ate his breakfast in silence, every once in a while catching one of the older foster boys, Tim, watching him. Whenever he looked directly at him, though, Tim looked away. 

Finally, Lex looked up quickly enough to catch Tim. And as he watched, Tim glanced down at the wig, then winked up at him. 

Lex had only a moment to wonder what Tim meant before Tim stood and dashed for the door, pulling a lighter from his pocket and setting fire to one of Mrs. Johanssen's dishtowels on his way out. 

Lex knew this was his cue to leave. He stuffed the wig unceremoniously into his book bag and followed Tim out the door while the fire had the rest of the family distracted. 

Tim was loping along casually, apparently waiting for Lex to catch up to him, because once Lex did, Tim grinned at him. 

"Thanks." Lex said. "I'm never wearing that thing again." 

"Well, I can't set fire to a dishtowel every morning." Tim pointed out. 

Lex shrugged. "After I get through today, maybe they'll leave me alone." 

"What's today?" 

Lex shrugged. "Just, you know, I guess once I've gone a whole day at school without that thing, maybe Mrs. Johanssen will accept that I don't need it." 

Tim snorted. "Not likely." 

"Well, maybe I can dazzle her with my grades. I am a genius, after all." 

"Maybe. You're a weird kid. But I think we'll get along." Tim turned off of the path they were on, heading towards the middle school, as Lex continued on to the elementary school. 

Lex continued on to school, skulking around the playground until the bell rang to begin school. 

He ambled slowly into Mrs. Loeb's classroom, trying to slide into his seat directly in the center of the room unobtrusively, ignoring the snickers of his classmates. 

Mrs. Loeb, a thin woman with blonde hair pulled up in a bun, turned around. "What are you all . . . Lex Luthor. Why aren't you wearing your wig?" 

Lex shrugged, trying to affect nonchalance. "Didn't feel like it." 

She put her hands on her hips and looked at him with an almost pleading expression. "All the experts say that you'll be happier if you wear it." 

Lex looked up at her calmly. "No." 

"No?" 

"I won't wear it. It . . . it itches." 

Lex felt bad about the admission, especially since his classmates started giggling again. But apparently, this was the right card to play, because Mrs. Loeb just sighed. "All right," she said resignedly. 

She turned back to the blackboard. "Everyone take out your Language Arts books." 

* * *

Lex had to stay in during recess to get his homework done. It was tempting to not do his homework again, just to avoid the next day's recesses as well. However, Mrs. Loeb had explained to him that would lower his grades, which were Lex's only remaining source of vanity. Consequently, it was with a very light heart and a very heavy bookbag, Lex walked to the Kent family farm. 

He arrived to find Jonathan leading a recalcitrant bay mare out of the barn. Jonathan clucked at the horse uselessly as he tried to lead it by the reins. 

Lex dropped his bookbag on the ground. "Hi, Mr. Kent! Can I do that for you?" 

Jonathan glowered at the small boy. "I don't think you . . . ." Then he watched, dumbfounded, as Lex grinned up at the horse and held out a hand, and the horse lowered her nose to be patted. 

Lex took the reins from Jonathan's nerveless fingers and asked, "You want her in the corral over there?" 

"Yes, please." 

Martha came to the door, followed closely by Clark. "Jonathan, I told you that I'd . . . Lex." 

Lex closed the corral door and smiled at Martha. "Hi, Mrs. Kent!" 

Clark came out from behind his mother and ran down the stairs towards his friend. He skidded to a stop in the dust just in front of Lex, cupping Lex's face gently in his hands as he stared into Lex's blue eyes. "Lex." He said clearly, smiling widely. 

Lex smiled at Martha, who had hurried down the stairs and crouched on the ground near the boys, placing one hand at the back of each boy's head. "He said my name." 

"He started talking last night. Just like that. All he says is Mom, and Dad, and, apparently, Lex." 

"He'll say more soon." Lex said, perfect assurance in his voice. 

"Lex," Jonathan interrupted them. "How did you do that?" 

"What?" 

"Get Devana into the corral." 

"Devana?" 

"Pretty name, isn't it?" Martha asked. "She's my horse. She's named after the Czech goddess of the hunt. And she usually doesn't allow strangers to handle her." She glanced up at her husband, obviously trying not to laugh. "After ten years of marriage, she still considers Jonathan to be a stranger." 

Lex shrugged. "I've taken horseback riding lessons since before I can remember." 

Martha stood and directed the two boys into the house. "English or western?" 

"English. Though my mom had me take western for a while. She said that western would be more useful." 

"It is. At least around here. Some people show their horses, but Devana's just for pleasure anymore. You're welcome to take her out occasionally. Some days I have a hard time getting out to exercise her. Especially now that we have Clark." 

Lex's eyes shone as he looked up at Martha. "I'd love to, Mrs. Kent." 

"Well, then. We have a deal." 

Lex followed Clark and Martha into the house. 

"I . . . I've got some homework to do. Can I do it here, or should I wait until I get back to the Johanssens'?" 

Martha noticed that Lex didn't refer to his foster family's house as 'home,' but figured that would come with time. "Of course you may do your homework here, Lex." 

"But what about Clark?" 

"Somehow, I think that Clark's just happy to have you here." Martha said with a smile. 

Lex noticed that Clark was standing there at his elbow, a worshipful expression on his face. "I guess he is." Lex said with a gentle smile. 

Lex put his bookbag down on the kitchen floor and took out his math homework - a worksheet of single-digit multiplication problems. He sighed and took out a pencil, taking a seat at the table. 

"That difficult?" Martha asked. 

"No. That easy. I can't believe this. We put this sort of thing behind us last year at my old school." Lex sat down on one of the chairs; Clark scrambled up into the chair next to his. 

Lex began to fill in the worksheet as quickly as he could write down the answers. {Four times seven is twenty-eight; nine times five is forty-five; three times eight is twenty-four . . .} He stopped when he felt Clark's gaze on him. He looked up. 

Silently, Clark looked pointedly at the paper and pencil, then looked a question up at Lex. 

"It's homework, Clark. My teacher wants to see that I know this, so I have to fill it out." 

Clark looked down at the paper and pencil again, then back up at Lex. 

"It's multiplication. I don't think you're up to that yet. Here." He reached into his bag and pulled out his pad of paper and another pencil, which he gave to Clark. 

Clark grinned and copied the way Lex held his pencil. Then, he squinted down at it and switched it to his right hand, mirroring Lex's grip. Smiling, he proceeded to scribble on his paper as Lex finished the worksheet. 

Martha buzzed around the kitchen as Lex zipped through the rest of his homework, Clark happily keeping himself occupied mimicking Lex's activities. 

"Will you be staying to dinner?" Martha asked as she moved to take the dishes out of the cabinet. 

"If I'm welcome, then I'd be happy to." 

"Of _course_ you're welcome." Martha admonished him gently, taking four plates out of the cabinet. 

Jonathan, just coming in from the fields, stopped outside the back door, watching Martha and the two boys. Martha was born to be a mother, and Jonathan just knew that she'd make another bid to adopt the Luthor kid. He only hoped he had the strength to resist her pleas again. 

After dinner, Jonathan dropped Lex off at the Johanssens' house. 

"Thank you for the ride, Mr. Kent." Lex said with his best manners. 

"You're welcome, Lex." Jonathan responded reluctantly. 

Lex walked into the house. The hallway leading to the stairs passed by the kitchen, and he overheard them talking. 

" . . . don't care about that, Martin. That boy's a danger to all of us." 

"I just think we should give Tim another chance." Lex heard Mr. Johanssen say calmly. 

"How many second chances is he going to get?" 

"Just one more. Then we'll return him to social services. I promise." 

"So he'll be gone by the end of . . . " 

Lex's blood ran cold. {Tim's the only person here who's even tried to be nice to me. If they send Tim away, it'll just be me against Carl and Doug and the Johanssens.} 

Quickly, quietly, before the Johanssens could hear him outside the kitchen, Lex hurried upstairs. 

Carl and Doug were apparently in the TV room, as Tim was alone in the boys' bedroom, staring blankly at a clean sheet of paper on his desk. 

Lex dropped his bookbag on his desk and went to stand behind Tim. "323 square meters." 

"Huh?" 

"That's how much carpeting you'd have to buy to carpet a 17 meter by 19 meter room." 

Tim looked up at Lex. "Thanks." He wrote the answer down on the blank sheet of paper. 

Lex continued standing there. 

Tim looked up at him. "So, you wanna answer number two for me, too?" 

"Actually, I want to talk to you." 

"Yeah?" 

"I just heard the Johanssens talking. They're thinking of sending you back to social services." 

Tim shrugged. "Took longer than I thought." 

"You _want_ them to send you back?" 

"That's how it goes. You get kicked out of one place, they send you somewhere else." 

"But you don't want to go?" 

"I don't have a choice." 

"Yes. You do. Mr. Johanssen has convinced Mrs. Johanssen to give you another chance." 

"Why do you care?" 

"Because. You're the only person here who's been anything like friendly to me." 

"Really?" 

Lex nodded silently. 

"Well, I guess I'll think about it then." Tim gave Lex a tentative half-smile, which Lex returned in exactly the same experimental fashion. 

Lex turned back towards his bed, then back to Tim. "Oh, and 13,816 pounds." 

"What?" 

"That's how much seed you'd need to cover a 1,256 square meter field." 

"Thanks." 

* * *

Clark had gone to bed, and Jonathan and Martha were discussing Martha's desire to adopt Lex. 

"No. I absolutely will _not_ take Lex Luthor to raise." Jonathan said adamantly. 

"Why not?" 

"I refuse to have any member of Lionel Luthor's family living in this house." 

"That's terrible, Jonathan! He's not to blame for the things his father did." 

"Lionel Luthor has raised that child. Think, Martha. Think what Lionel Luthor would have done if he'd found that pod in our storm cellar." 

Martha's jaw dropped and her skin blanched. 

"Exactly. He can come visit you and Clark whenever he wants. As long as he's _visiting._ I don't want him having the free run of this place." 

"As much as I don't want to admit it, you're right. Lex is safe, and if it really will keep Clark safe here, I guess I can leave him there," Martha sighed, wishing she had another option. 


End file.
